


Memories

by charmed_seconds



Series: A King and His Warlock [15]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Immortal!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmed_seconds/pseuds/charmed_seconds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin wonders when Arthur will fade away just like everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

Memories are fleeting, especially when one has been on Earth for years. Merlin’s eyes, a bright, vibrant blue, look woefully towards the lake where so many of his are housed. Insignificant memories like a meteor showers a few hundred years back or the winner of the first televised football game can be brought back without a second thought, and usually with a smile on his face. But the memories he longed for, the memories of a time where a castle stood instead of cities, were quickly becoming covered in dust that refused to be brushed off.

 

Gaius. A man that was a father to him. A man that taught him everything he knew about medieval medicine. The one that he wept upon when times got too hard. He was Merlin’s confidant while he lived within the cobblestone walls of Camelot. Someone who could never be replaced in Merlin’s heart.

 

And he couldn’t remember what he sounded like. Nor his face. Faintly, he could remember the scent that lingered on Gaius’s robes -- the sharp tang of water and the subtle aroma of mint.

 

Next was Gwen. Beautiful Gwen. During his early years in Camelot, she was his best friend. His first kiss within Camelot and was a calm, peaceful woman that he envied for her ability to keep a calm head when everything around her was crashing.

 

Her voice was gone. He couldn’t remember if she had a soprano voice or a deeper alto. Her eye color was lost. Were they brown or hazel? He no longer could recollect the date when she finally passed on after years of governing Camelot. Her son, sired by Leon, was the next ruler; abate only for a few years before Camelot fell like all other Kingdoms did eventually.

 

The Knights were random men. Merlin could remember laughter, Gwaine’s long hair and Percival's strong arms; but everyone else, even loyal Leon, were lost in the abyss of forgotten. They were the last to blur as he tried to keep them close to him. They were his friends until their death; but, no matter how hard he tried to keep the memories of them fresh (Gwaine’s, Leon’s and Percival’s sword hung on his wall, Elyan’s armor was in his living room, Lancelot’s shield decorated his dining room) they eventually evaporated.

 

As he sat on the bench, his eyes remained focused on the Lake. The Lake where his most precious memory lay. He remembered the bright blond hair that seemingly turned to gold in the sunlight. Blue eyes that were on par to the sky. A voice that brought comfort and serenity to him. Arms there were like blankets. Lips that, even now, brought a faint blush to his cheeks and blood to his lower body. Arthur, even thousands of years later, were still on the forefront of his mind.

 

But the small voice in the back of Merlin’s mind, the one that was dubbed Kilgharrah, mournfully reminded him that all of his friends were at the forefront of his mind before they too sank into the regresses of his mind.

 

How long until Arthur’s memory would do the same?

 

How long until Arthur’s face turned faceless?

 

How long until his voice turned monotoned?

 

How long until Merlin would look at this lake and couldn’t remember why he stood at it’s shore’s edge day-after-day?

 

Merlin licked his lips and began to walk away and refused to acknowledge that Arthur’s smile was already blurring in his memory’s eyes.

 


End file.
